The Creation of Evil
by Amaranth O'Riley
Summary: Nobody can be born evil. Evil must be created. And the creation of Lord Voldemort started with one small child. It started with Tom Marvolo Riddle.
1. Chapter 1

**The Creation of Evil**

_Pathetic._

_Heartbreaking._

_Must be homeless. _

_Filthy addict._

_Oh dear, she's with child!_

A short, plump, straggly-haired woman staggered through the muddy streets, oblivious to the murmurings and vicious comments the bystanders threw at her. She was used to it, anyways. It wasn't the first time she had been treated cruelly. And, with the way her life was going, it wouldn't be the last.

A carriage thundered by her, splashing her already dirty skirts with more mud. She stumbled on, determined to reach her destination before this demon found its' way out.

Finally, she tripped up the stairs of a building marked "Orphanage", and knocked weakly on the wooden doors. Her knocking became more frantic as the sharp pain in her abdomen increased. Finally, she collapsed on the cold cement steps, gasping for breath.

Moments later, a young girl opened the door.

"Miss?" She kneeled down and shook the woman's shoulder. "Miss? Can I 'elp yer? Miss!"

The girl felt hot wet seeping through the soles of her shoes. She looked down at the growing puddle of blood.

"Ms. Nethrop, you be'er come quick!"

Ms. Nethrop, presumably the matron of the orphanage, popped her head out of her office.

"What is it now, girl?"

"This lady's bleeding all o'er the place! She's in a righ' bad state, she is!"

Ms. Nethrop walked curiously to the doorway and gasped.

"Dearie, what's your name?"

"Nellie Cole, miss!"

"Not you!" She turned back to the stranger. "What's your name, dear?"

The woman looked at her with bloodshot eyes.

"Please," She croaked in a hideous, frightening voice, "Please get this demon out of me!"

Ms. Nethrop attempted to lift the woman up.

"Nellie, help me with her!"

Together, Ms. Nethrop and Nellie half carried, half dragged the woman into the "infirmary", which consisted of two small beds, a nurse's desk, and a carton of bandages. The woman sitting at the desk bustled over and positioned the stranger on one of the beds.

"Nurse Halan, have you ever delivered a baby before?" Ms. Nethrop asked.

"Only once miss, but I think I can manage."

The woman on the bed gasped in pain and cried out.

"Don't worry, we'll get the child out quick as you please!" Nurse Halan exclaimed, spreading the woman's legs. "Now _push_!"

Nellie and Ms. Nethrop watched, slightly horrorstruck, as blood pooled out along the floor.

"I see the head! Keep pushing! You, girl, go get water and some towels!"

Nellie rushed off to collect the desired items.

"Push!"

With one final grunt, the baby was free. Nellie and Nurse Halan rinsed the blood off the child and wrapped him in a towel.

All was silent for a moment. Finally, Nellie asked timidly,

"Ain't he s'possed to cry?"

Nurse Halan shrugged and turned to the woman.

"Well, miss, what would you like to name your son?"

The woman glared at the child.

"Name him after his father, and mine," she said, "Name him Tom Marvolo Riddle."

And then she died.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Creation of Evil**

**I**

At the age of six, Tom Marvolo Riddle discovered that he was different from other children, somehow. Yes, he was an orphan, but every other kid in the building was. Yes, he was unusually bright for his age, but that could have just been genes. Yes, he was better-behaved than the other orphans, but he didn't see the point of screaming, crying, kicking, or biting. No, Tom Riddle was different for other reasons.

He always seemed to know what people were about to say. Sometimes, he thought he heard their words before they actually opened their mouths. He could also talk to snakes. He didn't tell anyone, of course, because he knew other children that talked to their 'invisible' friends and were considered childish. But Tom really could talk to snakes, and they talked back.

And that wasn't even the weird thing.

Unusual stuff seemed to happen around him. Objects moved around of their own accord, but he usually wanted them to move. When he ate breakfast in the mess hall, food just seemed to appear on his plate. And sometimes, the food he ate hadn't even been on the table in the first place. The other kids were awestruck, the matron and her aides slightly frightened, and Tom was just rather confused.

Yes, Tom was different. But he wanted to know why. Why could snakes talk to him and nobody else? Why could he read people's minds? Why did abnormal things happen around him?

He wasn't complaining, of course. Tom liked being different. Grown-ups were always teaching you things so you could 'fit in' with society. But why were people supposed to fit in? Wouldn't it be better to stand out, so more people would notice you? Why would you want to fit in? It just made you exactly the same as everyone else, and everyone didn't get put in history books.

Tom Riddle walked down to breakfast calmly at precisely seven-thirty. He sat down at his usual table, against the wall and in the corner. Nobody sat next to him, as usual. He ate slowly and calmly, not stuffing his face as the other children always did. Once he was finished, he stood up and walked, slowly and calmly, to Ms. Pritten's room, where he would have his lessons.

That was the only good thing about the orphanage: every day, each orphan attended classes. Others complained about this, saying that they would simply remain in the orphanage forever, that they wouldn't need to know math and science. Tom didn't feel the same way. The more he knew, the better, in his opinion. As soon as he turned eighteen, Tom would be leaving this place, to become a great person. But for now, he was stuck learning the basics.

Class started at precisely eight-thirty, with Ms. Pritten taking role.

"Anderson, Shannon!"

"I here!"

"_I'm_ here, Shannon_, I'm_. Bright, Zachary!"

Tom ignored the other children, most of the time. All of them were extremely slow, and Tom often became frustrated when they didn't understand something the first time, as he did.

Finally, Ms. Pritten called out, "Riddle, Tom!"

Tom raised his hand, "Present."

"Well, now that you're all accounted for, I have a special treat!" Tom rolled his eyes. Usually, Ms. Pritten's 'special treats' involved playing a game of tag or hide-and-seek, neither of which Tom enjoyed.

"Today I will be reading you a book!" Tom frowned. He liked to read books to himself, not have them read out loud. It made him feel slow, like the other kids, who couldn't read yet. But, he supposed, it was better than hide-and-seek.

"Ms. Pritten?" Zachary Bright raised his hand slowly, "Will we ever learn to read by ourselves?"

Ms. Pritten smiled kindly. "Zachary, if you set your mind to it, anything is possible." She picked up a book off her desk and held it up.

"Now, this book is called, If I Could Live Forever, by James Vienna."

Tom listened to the story, a rhyming book about a young boy who talked about what he would do if he was immortal. When Ms. Pritten finished, she turned to face the class.

"Now children, what is the moral of the story?"

Shannon Anderson raised her hand timidly. "Is it that living forever wouldn't really be fun? 'Cause you'd get bored after a while, right?"

"Exactly, Shannon! Yes, Tom?"

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, "But wouldn't it be fun if you actually did something worthwhile with your time? Like if became King or something? And you could rule forever."

Ms. Pritten clicked her tongue. "But, Tom, don't you think you'd get bored of ordering people around, day after day, for the rest of time?"

Tom shrugged, and Ms. Pritten turned to another student. Honestly, Tom thought it would be kind of neat, if you could order people around forever, and they would do whatever you wanted. If there was only a way to really live forever, Tom would do anything. He raised his hand again.

"Ms. Pritten, is there a way that people can live forever?"

"No, Tom," Ms. Pritten said condescendingly, "People can't live forever, because God didn't create us that way."

Tom looked down at his desk. If _God_ could live forever, why couldn't people? That wasn't really fair of God, making it so people had to die, while he could do whatever he wanted. Really, it was quite selfish of God to not make people immortal. If Tom ever met God, he would give him a piece of his mind. And, once he got out of the orphanage, Tom _would _find a way to become immortal. If scientists could figure out how to make electricity, then surely, eventually, they could figure out how to lengthen human life.

And Tom muttered under his breath, with a slight smirk on his face:

"If you set your mind to it, anything is possible..."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Creation of Evil**

**II**

On one bright Monday in mid-March, the orphanage was ablaze with excitement. Somebody was coming in today. A rich, powerful man and his young wife wanted a second child. Their daughter was ten years old, and the couple wanted her to have a playmate around her own age. Tom had just turned eight.

At four o'clock, the children crowded around the front hall, dressed in their least ragged clothing, hair brushed as smooth as possible. The couple entered, looking grand in fine silks and furs, and their young daughter skipped beside them, dressed in a soft pink velvet dress. The orphans bowed and curtsied, smiling sweetly in hopes that they would be chosen.

Ms. Nethrop, the head of the orphanage, swept down the stairs in an old, worn-out blue gown, grey hair piled up and held in place with a comb which was missing three pearls.

Tom rolled his eyes. The obvious pretentiousness of Ms. Nethrop and the other children was sickening. They were just rich, probably born into money, as the husband looked rather dull. Ms. Nethrop greeted the couple cordially.

"Sir Edward, pleasure to meet you," she said airily, "do any of my children catch your eye?"

Sir Edward shrugged a bit, and his wife answered for him:

"We thought that maybe dear Emmeline would like to talk to the children, see which one she'd like to have as a brother or sister."

She turned towards ten-year-old Emmeline, who nodded, smiling, and skipped towards the group of children.

"Bonjour!" she said brightly, "Which one of you wants to be adopted?"

Every child, excluding Tom, raised their hand and began talking to Emmeline.

"Hey!" Emmeline stuck her hands on her narrow hips. The group ceased the talking and looked guilty.

"What about you?" Emmeline asked, turning to Tom, "Would you like to be adopted?"

Tom glared at her. How dare she? How dare this rude, pretentious girl address him? _Obviously_ he didn't want to be adopted by _this_ family, this showy, ostentatious family. Who would want to become a playmate of this girl anyway? She wasn't nice, she seemed quite bossy, and her dress was…on fire?

Tom blinked hard. How had her dress caught fire?

Suddenly, Emmeline screamed.

"Mummy! Mummy, Daddy, it _hurts_!"

Sir Edward and his wife started towards their daughter, but stopped short as their clothing caught fire, also. The trio screamed and swatted at the flames, and Ms. Nethrop yelped and grabbed for the water-pitcher, throwing some, first on the couple, then on Emmeline. Once the flames had ceased, she began apologizing profusely.

"Oh, oh dear, are you quite alright? I assure you, I have no idea how that…I promise, if…sorry!"

Emmeline glared around the room through her watery eyes, finally resting her gaze on Tom, who was grinning widely. She looked at him for a moment and opened her mouth.

"Emmeline!" Sir Edward stepped forward, clutching his daughter's shoulder, "We're leaving, now!"

And the family left, Emmeline continuously glancing over her shoulder at Tom Riddle, who had begun laughing, a strange, high-pitched, cold laugh.


End file.
